Captain Barrett's Daughter
by bruce2112
Summary: Corpse Bride movie sequel: Twelve years after he marries Victoria, someone ... guess who? ... comes back into Victor's life. But why now? And what does she want?
1. Prologue: A Suitable End

**Prologue: A Suitable End**

After nineteen long and frustrating years of hard work, Captain Barrett's quest was nearly done. Another half-hour - maybe an hour at most - and the beast who had murdered his daughter would be finally, safely, dead.

Dead at last, and justice served: the Captain's pistols and dagger would see to that...

The moon was up now, and the lightly frozen ground crunched beneath his feet. Walter (how long had it been since anyone had called him by his own given name?) smiled: the moonlight made the going easier and he liked the moon … 'twas like seeing the fat, comforting face of an old friend.

The smile faded as the Captain drew his thoughts back to the job at hand. The man he sought had had the devil's own luck over the years, but finally had gone one mistake too far.

What could have possessed him to return to the scene of his old crime? Desperation? Carelessness? Maybe a mistaken belief that all had been forgotten?

It didn't matter. Tonight the Everglot wedding feast would be attended by an extra guest and Walter's long search, along with the prolonged miserable life of this so-called 'Lord' Barkis, would come - at last - to a suitable end.

It wouldn't be much longer now … from across the valley the Captain could see the lights of the village and the outline of the old stone church.

Then something rippled across the disk of the moon and a face came into his mind - one that he hadn't seen for a long, long time.

The face of a dear one lost to him these nineteen lonely, empty years.

"Emily..." he whispered.


	2. Ch 1: The Excursion

**Chapter 1: The Excursion**

_(Twelve years later...)_

"But why can't I go?" Victor's daughter asked him one more time. She was not one to give up easily.

"Look, Emily," he said patiently. "You know how your mother feels about that."

She crossed her arms and pouted. "But I'm nine-and-a-half," Emily insisted. "That's more than old enough to go with you. I'm not a little kid like Willie, you know."

"I know," he conceded, "but ... "

"Please?" she pleaded. "Pretty please?"

Victor thought it over for a few more seconds.

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin," he said at last. "Not today."

She was tempted to argue, but the girl knew exactly how far her father could be pushed and she knew that that particular battle wasn't going to be won that day. So Emily switched tactics.

She leaned forward and made a show of looking at her father's hair. "Uh-oh." she said.

"What now?" he asked wearily. "Don't tell me that you've found another one?"

"Yes, Papa," she answered.

Victor sighed. He was only a year into his thirties and already his hair was beginning to turn gray. The business had been harder on him than he cared to think. "Oh, well. One more for your mother to pull out later."

Emily laughed.

He stood up. "Time to go, I'm afraid. The market won't run itself, you know."

His daughter snorted. "Hmmph! The market! We never get to see you anymore. It's not fair … "

Victor shrugged sadly. "I miss you all, too. Where's your mother?"

She pointed upstairs. "With the brat."

"You shouldn't call William that," he scolded. "He's your little brother, you know."

"Don't remind me," Emily muttered.

Her father shook his head. "What have I done to deserve this?" he grinned in mock annoyance. Then he pulled out his watch. "Oh my goodness! I'm late!" And he hurried upstairs to give his wife her good-bye kiss.

"Ask me again next week," Victor called to Emily over his shoulder. Then he rushed out the door.

Emily got her chance three days later. Victor was collecting his things for another day at work when she intercepted him.

"Can I come along, too?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know..." her father replied, a slight smile on his face. There was something different about his manner this time, and it encouraged her to keep trying.

"Please?" she asked hopefully.

Victor pretended to think it over. He let his daughter fret for a few more seconds, and then he answered. "Yes," he said.

Emily squealed and rushed forward to give her father's neck an enthusiastic crushing hug.

"Easy, easy," he said, prying her arms away from his throat so that he could breathe again. "Go upstairs and put something else on … something suitable for a young lady to go to town in."

Happily, Emily bounced up the stairs to change. As soon as she had gone, Victoria emerged from the sitting room.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" she asked him, wringing her hands.

"I think so," he answered. "She hasn't seen much of me lately, and you know that things aren't getting any easier at the market."

Victoria sighed. "Must you work so hard? All the time?" she complained. "William and I aren't seeing much of you either."

He paused. "It hasn't been the same since Father died. I guess I should have paid more attention to the business while he was still here."

"You'll learn," Victoria said. "Look at how much you've done in only a year."

He shook his head wearily. "Not nearly enough, I'm afraid."

His wife changed the subject. "Mother and Father are coming by for supper tonight."

Victor groaned. "Again?" His least favorite relatives...

After eleven years of marriage, Victoria had learned to read her husband. She waited for him to absorb the news, and then added the rest of her tidings.

"Father will be needing another loan," she announced.

"Can't those people learn how to budget?" Victor griped.

His wife said nothing; they'd had this discussion many times before.

He continued. "You know, if they got rid of that drafty old barn they insist on living in they could get by on a reasonable amount.''

"You know how Father and Mother are," she said quietly.

I certainly do," Victor grumbled. "If they weren't so concerned about 'keeping up appearances' they wouldn't need so much of our money."

"Oh, Victor," she said. "It's not like we don't have it."

"If the market keeps on like this for much longer, we won't."

She said nothing.

The sound of their daughter running noisily down the stairs put an end to the conversation. Victoria scrutinized Emily's outfit but could find nothing wrong with it, so she kissed her child good-bye and then stepped back.

"Be careful!" she warned.

"I will, Mama," Emily replied.

"You too, Victor," Victoria said. He answered by stepping forward for his good-bye kiss, then he and Emily left.

Victoria watched them go. She still wasn't sure that an excursion for their daughter was such a good idea...

"Where are we going today, Papa?" asked Emily as they waited for their carriage.

"Well, the market first," he replied, "and then, if you behave..."

"The docks?" she cut in eagerly.

Victor smiled. "Perhaps. But only if you behave."

"Oh! I will! I will!" Emily cried.

"Anything to see the boats, huh?" her father commented.

Emily grinned.

"Ah!" he said, cupping a hand to his ear, "Our ride's here." The sound of iron wheels on cobblestones grew louder and, a half-minute later, their carriage and driver pulled into view.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," the man said.

"Not at all, Mister Woodford," Victor replied, "My assistant and I are ahead of time."

"Ahhh ... I see you brought your assistant, sir," Woodford replied. "There'll be no slackin' for us today then?" And he leaned over and gave Emily a wink.

"I'm afraid not," his employer said with a grin. "You'd best be on your toes today."

The driver started to climb down, but Victor waved him back. "Never mind, Woodford," he said. "I'll get the door."

He opened the door and waved Emily inside. "After you, milady."

She climbed inside and her father hopped in behind her.

They spent the morning at the market, where Emily socialized with the employees. She had learned many visits ago not to get in the way, so she pitched in wherever she could. All morning, it was, "Miss Emily, could you help us with this?" or, "Miss Emily, do be a dear and fetch that..." But she didn't mind, knowing that the best way to guarantee future outings was to be as helpful as she could be on this one...

Before she knew it, lunchtime had arrived and, at the stroke of noon, her father appeared.

"Are we hungry yet?" he teased.

She nodded vigorously. "What's for lunch, Papa?"

Victor hung his head. "I hate to tell you this, but methinks I forgot our lunch. What do you say we make do with a fish-and-chips?"

Her broad smile answered that question...

Emily liked fish-and-chips, but even more, she liked having her Papa all to herself. They chatted all through lunch, so much so that twice Victor had to remind her to eat faster.

But, finally, lunch was done and two minutes ahead of time Woodford pulled around in front with the carriage.

Victor acknowledged the early arrival with a nod and a smile, and then the pair climbed inside and settled into the well-padded seats.

'Mister Woodford!" Victor called up to their driver. "Do you still remember the way to the docks?"

"Indeed I do, sir," was the cheery reply.

"Best make it snappy, then," he called up again, then he leaned back and closed his eyes, a slight smile on his face.

Emily squealed with delight.

Her father opened one eye. "Mind what I said about behaving, now," he cautioned.

She promised to be good.

A few minutes later they were at the village harbor. Emily didn't have to look out her window to know that they had arrived. The smell of freshly caught fish filled the air, as did the sound of what seemed to her to be a thousand sea gulls, each and every one of them screeching at the top of its lungs.

"Back to work," Victor grinned, clapping his hands. They hopped out, and he dismissed Woodford, telling him to return in three hours.

Quickly, they made their rounds among the fishermen, Victor transacting his business with each in turn. He and Emily inspected a lot of fish and he made a point of asking her opinion of the product offered at each stop.

His daughter wasn't quite ten yet, but Victor was determined not to make the same mistake his own father had made. His children would grow up knowing everything that he could teach them about life and about business.

Before an hour-and-a-half had passed, they had finished their business with the fishermen.

"Look at this," Victor said, pulling out his pocket watch with a flourish. "We seem to have ninety minutes to spare. Whatever shall we do with it?"

"The boats! The boats!" she pleaded, tugging on his hand.

He pretended to think about it. "Oh, sure. Why not?"

Emily squirmed with excitement. "Thank you, Papa! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Emily was boat-crazy: if it was capable of floating it was worth seeing. And she looked at everything - from the smallest beached dinghy right up to the stately pair of schooners moored to the largest and best kept of the wharves.

But she liked the schooners best and she saved them for last. She found the complicated rigging and sails fascinating and spent a good quarter-hour studying them, squinting and scratching her head as she puzzled out their design.

She was so engrossed that she nearly walked into the elderly gentleman in the white captain's cap who was also inspecting the works.

"Oh!" Victor scolded. "Do be careful!"

The old man smiled. "That's all right," he said. "I can see that the young lass knows a fine ship when she sees one."

"Yes, sir," said Victor. "She certainly does like boats."

"That's not a boat, Papa, that's a ship," she corrected.

The two men laughed.

"That's a sharp young lady you have there, Mr. Van Dort. She'd make a fine ship's captain."

"That's what I want to be when I grow up," said Emily.

Her father looked down at her. "It's not polite to interrupt," he said.

Mortified, Emily said nothing.

The older man laughed again. "Who knows? Maybe she'll be one some day. Good day to you, Mr. Van Dort." He looked downward at Emily and nodded. "Miss Van Dort." Then he turned and walked away.

Emily waited until he was out of sight, then asked her father, "Who was that?"

Victor paused. A puzzled expression passed across his face, and he turned and looked hard in the departed man's direction. "I don't know," he finally answered.

"But he knew us, Papa," she commented.

He was still staring. "So he did... "

Victor shook his head and pulled out his pocket watch. "Time to go, I'm afraid."

"Awwww."

He held firm. "We mustn't keep Mister Woodford waiting."

Emily shrugged - she knew that it was time. "Okay." She ran ahead to get in some last-minute looking around while her father made his way back at a more moderate pace.

Something in the water caught her eye, so she stopped and made a detour to investigate, walking to the very edge of the dock to get a better look.

"Be careful!" Victor called ahead to her as she strained for a better view.

Emily turned to acknowledge him but, as she did, her foot slipped on the wet, slippery wood and she lost her balance, spun, and then tumbled over the edge into the filthy water.

"Emily!" he cried.

The sudden plunge into the cold saltwater was a shock to the girl, and she gasped in surprise. Her nose and mouth instantly filled with water and she began to choke. Then Emily felt something grab her arm and she was pushed out of the water, against the rough edge of the dock.

"Hold on to the side!" she heard her father yell and she scrambled for a grip on the slimy wood. After a few terrifying seconds she was hauled out onto the surface of the dock.

The water down in her lungs made her cough and she fought to breathe.

"Cough! Cough it out!" her father barked, and he pounded her furiously on the back. That helped, and she managed to finally get the last of the water out and to catch her breath.

Something dripped on her cheek and she turned her head. The anxious face of her father hovered above her.

"Are you all right?" Victor asked.

Emily looked up. "Papa, you're all wet," she said.

He rocked back on his heels and exhaled raggedly.

"My God, girl, I'd thought I'd lost you."

Then his voice sharpened. "Don't do that again!"

Tears came to her eyes. "I'm sorry, Papa."

He leaned forward and hugged her.

After a half-minute or so, he released her and stood up. "We'd better get going - we're going to be in enough trouble with your mother as it is..."

Victor held out his hand and helped his daughter to her feet. "Are you all right now?"

She wasn't sure. "Let's go home, Papa."

He nodded. "Let's."

Luckily, Woodford was already waiting for them with the carriage. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Just a slight mishap," Victor commented. "Let's get this young lady home."

"Aye." Woodford agreed, opening the door for them.

"Oh, Victor, what happened?" Victoria exclaimed when they appeared at the door.

"Just a little salt water," Victor replied as he ushered his dripping child inside. "Nothing too serious."

"She could have drowned, Victor! Or you could have…"

He looked sheepishly down at his ruined shoes. There was a large and growing puddle of greasy water where he was standing. Then he looked back up at his wife. "No harm done."

She wrung her hands. "No harm done? Mother and Father will be here at any moment! What will they say?"

Victor grinned. "I know what your mother would say."

He pulled his voice up into a perfect falsetto imitation of his mother-in-law. "Oh ... what impropriety … Shocking! … Shocking!"

At that very moment, there came a knock on the door.

"Victor!" Victoria hissed. "Get her up to her room ... They're here!"

"Let's go, Pumpkin," he said to Emily. "Quickly!" And he hurried her up the stairs.

From the top of the stairs Victor could hear his in-laws noisily greeting their daughter. "Put something nice on," he called through the bedroom door, then he turned and walked down the hall to check up on William.

A half-hour later, everyone sat down to dinner.

After the meal was done, Victor and his father-in-law retreated to his study.

"Did you talk to the Solicitor like I asked you to?" Mr. Everglot asked him.

Victor nodded, but not enthusiastically.

"He is a good friend of mine," the older man said. "That's why we're getting such good terms."

'What do you mean 'we'?' Victor thought, but he bit his lip and said nothing.

"I have the papers right here," Finis said.

The younger man sighed. He hated the idea of borrowing money, but business was still slow, and he had no other alternatives.

"I still don't like the terms, Finis," he said to his father-in-law. "Some of these conditions worry me. What if he calls in the loan early, and we've already spent the money? If that was to happen, that could be the end of the company."

"Don't worry, Victor, my boy. It wouldn't make sense for him to do that. Why would he walk away from such a good investment?"

"Well, Father wouldn't have taken a risk like this. He wouldn't have borrowed under these circumstances, and certainly not on these terms."

Finis bristled. "Well, your father isn't here now, is he? The business is in your hands. And it's up to you to make it work - unless you have a better way."

He added, "This will ensure our financial survival. We need to do this."

'We indeed,' Victor thought again. Then, with a sigh, he picked up his pen and signed the papers.

"I hope you're right," he said to his father-in-law.

"Oh, by the way, Victor..." Finis said casually. "Did Victoria mention to you that we'll be needing another loan? …"


	3. Ch 2: A Mild Case of Quinsy

**Chapter 2: A Mild Case of Quinsy**

"Mother was upset today," Victoria said to Victor.

"Your mother is _always_ upset," he replied. "I'd be greatly concerned if she wasn't."

"Don't be funny, Victor. She had every right to be, with her own grandchild having that accident at the docks today."

"It was only a dunking. Nothing that a good bath wouldn't fix," Victor said.

"Emily could have been drowned. Or worse," his wife fretted.

"Well, she didn't, and that should be the end of it."

"Victor - promise me that you won't take her to that horrid place again." Victoria pleaded.

"I can't do that to her - she loves the docks. And looking at the boats," he answered.

"It was looking at those boats that got her into trouble to begin with."

"We'll continue this discussion later, Victoria. Good night." And with that Victor went off to bed. Without the usual good-night kiss...

It was hours before Victoria calmed down enough to finally get to sleep.

"What's the matter, Pumpkin?" Victor asked his daughter the next morning.

"Papa, my throat hurts," she complained.

"Come here," he said. "Let me feel your forehead…"

"Oh! You're burning up. You'd better go back to bed."

"Okay, Papa," she said meekly, and she turned and trudged back up the stairs to her bedroom.

That confirmed for him that the girl really was sick - Emily hated to spend any time in bed when she could be doing something fun.

By suppertime her throat was definitely swollen, so Victor summoned the doctor. He looked at her, then came back downstairs with his diagnosis.

"She has a mild case of quinsy," the doctor said. "An inflammation of the throat."

"Is it serious?" Victoria asked him.

"Not usually. Keep the child in bed. A poultice for her throat or liniment of ammonia if you have it."

Victor recalled the previous day's events and asked the doctor if his daughter's soaking could have been the cause of her illness.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he answered. "That water's pretty foul, and God only knows what you could catch swimming around in there."

Victoria shot her husband one of her 'I told you so' looks. He looked away and addressed the doctor. "Thank you for coming. I'll see you out."

When he returned, Victoria was gone.

That night neither one of them got much sleep. Despite their best efforts at nursing her, their daughter's condition worsened as her throat continued to swell. In the early hours of the morning Victor left to fetch the doctor again.

The doctor had them wait downstairs while he took another look at the child. When he returned, the grim expression on his face frightened them.

"We'll need to lance the infection immediately. Mr. Van Dort, come with me."

Victoria moved to follow them, but the doctor waved her back. "It would be best if you stayed down here, Mrs. Van Dort."

"But - that's my baby up there! ..." She cried.

He gave her a stern look. "This will not be pleasant work, madam. I insist that you remain down here."

"But ..."

Victor looked at his wife. "Victoria. Please ..."

Reluctantly she obeyed and sat down listlessly on the couch.

"Quickly, Mr. Van Dort." The two men hurried upstairs.

The sounds of moaning and the occasional cry came from the upstairs. Victoria covered her ears and wept. And she prayed. And then she prayed some more.

After what seemed to be forever, her husband and the doctor came back downstairs.

Victoria sprang to her feet and rushed at them.

"How is Emily?" she gasped.

"I expect she'll get better now," the doctor answered. "She's running a temperature so you will need to watch her closely, but the fever should break within the next few hours."

"But - what if it doesn't?" she asked.

Another grim expression crossed the doctor's tired face. "Let's not worry about that just yet, Mrs. Van Dort." He looked over at her husband. "Do call if there is any change. I'll see myself out." Without another word he picked up his coat and left.

Victor walked over to his wife and took her in his arms. "Go to bed, darling. I'll look after her until the morning."

"But my place is with her."

He looked down wearily at her and then kissed her. "Your place will be with her once you've gotten some sleep. Then I'll rest and we'll take turns until we get her through this."

"Let me take the first shift," she insisted. "I won't be able to sleep anyway."

"Well, as long as somebody's with her it doesn't matter who's first," he conceded. "I'll go to bed, then."

Midway through the next morning she was awakened by her husband.

"Oh, I must have dozed off," she said to him. "How is she?"

"No better, I'm afraid."

Throughout the day Victor watched and prayed for an improvement in his daughter's condition, but she continued to sink.

Finally, he could take it no longer and he roused Victoria so that he could leave and get the doctor.

When he arrived the doctor ignored Victoria and went directly up the stairs. A minute or two later he summoned Victor. "We'll need to drain that throat again," the doctor told him.

Victor sprinted upstairs and once again the awful sounds came from the child's bedroom as the men redid their work.

Eventually they returned downstairs and she could tell by looking at their faces that the news was not going to be good.

Victor escorted the doctor to the front door and then he staggered back to where she was standing.

She waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat, then put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him. "There's still hope," he whispered, but the tears in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"Let me sit with her," Victoria said. "You need to get some sleep. I'll wake you if there is a change."

He could only look at her and slowly nod. Then he shuffled wearily off to bed.

That night was the longest of Victoria's life. Her daughter fought for breath as the swelling continued to cut off her air.

Victoria could only watch and pray until, finally, in sheer exhaustion, she fell asleep.

She was awakened by the sound of Emily's voice.

"But I don't want to," the young girl murmured. "I'm too tired."

There was silence for a few seconds and then she spoke again. "But only if you stay with me," she mumbled.

She carried on the one-sided conversation for about another half-minute, then fell silent.

Her heart pounding, Victoria reached over to check the child's pulse. It was weak, but still there.

Gradually Victoria drifted off again, and then was wakened once more by the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Are you sure?" she asked her unseen companion. "I don't see it."

The next words chilled her mother's heart.

"Please … I wanna quit. It's too far … I'm so tired," she muttered.

After a long pause the child spoke again. "Okay," she said very softly. "I will."

A long ten or twenty seconds later, Emily spoke yet again. "I'm so glad you're with me," she whispered, and then she smiled.

With great effort Victoria stayed awake for another half-hour but eventually the tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep one more time.

'Mama?"

Victoria jolted awake.

"Yes, baby?"

"I'm thirsty."

Victoria reached for the pitcher of water on the night table and poured a glass, then held it carefully to Emily's lips and watched as the girl took a sip.

"How are you feeling?" Victoria asked her.

"I'm tired," was the sleepy answer.

Victoria paused, then bent down close to the girl's face.

"Who were you talking to, honey?" she asked quietly.

"My friend."

"Which friend?" her mother asked.

"The one from my dreams."

Victoria's heart pounded. "Who is she, sweetheart?"

"I don't know," Emily mumbled. "She never told me her name."

"What does she look like?" Victoria asked.

"I'm tired, Mama ... wanna sleep."

"Please, honey, it's important. What does she look like?"

Emily stirred. "She's taller than you … and very pretty."

"And?" prompted Victoria.

"She's got long dark hair."

"And?"

"She has a white dress … a nice one with pearls - like a wedding dress. She looks like a bride, a beautiful bride."

For a few seconds the room spun around her and Victoria felt like she was going to faint.

The dizzy feeling passed and, little by little, she regained her composure.

"Is there anything else?" Victoria asked further.

Then Emily opened her eyes a little and looked sleepily at her mother. "Mama, I'm tired. Can I go to sleep now?"

Victoria laid a hand on her child's brow. "Yes, sweetheart, go back to sleep."

Emily murmured something and closed her eyes. A few seconds later she was fast asleep.

It took Victoria a while to realize that there had been something different about the sick girl. Very gently, she touched her daughter's forehead again with the back of her hand and, to her great surprise, it felt cool.

Her heart jumped and a wave of joy swept through her. She ran from the room and called out to her husband. "Victor! Wake up! Wake up!"

It took a few seconds for Victor to comprehend that his wife was bringing good news. He sprinted to Emily's room to see for himself and then ran back to Victoria.

"I'm going to fetch the doctor," he said. "Don't leave her alone." She reassured him and he left for the doctor's on the run. A half-hour later he returned with the doctor in tow.

"Wait down here," they were told, and then he went upstairs to check on his young patient.

"It's a miracle," Victor whispered.

Victoria shook her head. "No, it was her."

"What? Who are you talking about?"

"It was her," she repeated. "It was the Bride that saved her."

Victor shook his head. "You're not making any sense … I don't think so - she's been gone for years."

"Somebody's been coming to our daughter in her dreams. And Emily described her perfectly. I heard her talk to this person."

Victor shook his head again. "No," he insisted. "It was a figment of a sick child's imagination ... nothing more. The other Emily is gone … and she's not coming back."

"I hope you're right," Victoria said quietly.

The sound of footsteps broke the conversation as the doctor reappeared at the top of the stairs. "Mr. Van Dort?"

"Yes?"

"May I have a word with you?"

Victor excused himself and trudged up the stairs. The doctor put an arm around his shoulders and ushered him out of sight.

The doctor returned downstairs with Victor. The guarded look that he had worn on the way in was gone, replaced by a slight smile. He leaned over and said something to Victor, who laughed in response.

But Victoria still had to hear the good news for herself. "How is Emily?" she asked, wringing her hands.

The doctor walked over to her and patted her shoulder. "Your daughter's going to be fine," he said. "I don't know what you did, but whatever it was, it worked. Just keep her resting in bed for a couple of days - if you can."

Then he smiled broadly and tipped his hat to her. "Good day to you, Mrs. Van Dort."

Then Victor saw him out.

A few minutes later her husband came back into the room. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm tired," she said. "It's been a long night."

"Maybe you should get some rest," he suggested. "The market can do without me today."

"Isn't it funny," she said. "I'm tired, but I know I won't be able to sleep just yet. Would you mind terribly if I went out for some air while you sit with her?"

"I can do that, darling," her husband replied. "Maybe you can manage to get some sleep later."

She smiled, then leaned forward to give him a kiss. "You're a good man, Victor Van Dort."

A few minutes later she was on her way, walking a route she had taken many times before. The road that led out of town passed over the old stone bridge and then continued onward past the woods. That wooded ground was Victoria's goal.

She walked along the road, savoring the sunshine and enjoying the clean morning air. About a hundred paces past the beginning of the woods was a lightly worn path. Victoria turned to follow it and it took her into the heart of the forest.

Fifty more paces inwards she reached her destination. In a small clearing was a plot of carefully tended ground covered with soft grass and wildflowers.

This was where, so long ago on that moonlight night, her Victor had first encountered the Bride. For many years this spot had been the Bride's resting place, abandoned and forgotten. Then she had come out of the ground and into their lives.

Immediately after the wedding Victoria had asked Victor to bring her here and, after asking him to leave her alone at the grave, she had made the Bride a promise. "I will live the life you never had and I will have the children you never did. Please rest in peace knowing that we will never forget you."

Then she had added under her breath, "But please … don't come back..."

Over the years since, Victoria had returned to this hallowed place, clearing away the weeds and bushes that had overgrown the grave. She had placed the ring of little white stones around it and had added the wildflowers - bright blue blossoms that reminded her of the butterflies she had seen that night.

Many times since, she had returned to 'visit' and to talk to that patch of ground - to let the unseen spirit know that she hadn't been forgotten.

Victoria unfolded a small blanket and laid it out in front of the grave. She made herself comfortable upon it and began to think about the past few years.

Her marriage to Victor had been a good one and, to this day, she was grateful that the Bride had willingly given up her claim on him. She had often asked herself if she would have been willing to make the same sacrifice if she had been in the Bride's place. And, each and every one of those times - she was ashamed to admit - the answer had always been the same...

When their daughter was born, Victor had suggested a number of names - both from his side of the family and from hers. But she had rejected them all, until he finally asked her what name she had in mind.

"I should like it if we named her 'Emily' " she had told him. It was the last name he would have imagined, and he had half-heartedly tried to talk her out of it. But Victoria had had her reasons - and it was a pretty name...

So 'Emily' their daughter was named.

Victoria took a deep breath and, in a low soft voice, started speaking to the Bride.

"Wherever you are ... I know you can hear me ... so listen to me."

"You've been visiting my daughter in her dreams. I should be thankful that you saved her life ... and I am. But your place is not with us. You gave him up and I'm asking you to stay away from my family."

Victoria paused. Except for the sound of the soft grass rustling in the breeze, she heard nothing.

So she let her thoughts drift again - back to those years gone past.

Victor had been surprised when she had forced him to make that promise so long ago.

"But why?" he had asked.

"We've been through enough," she had told him. "The past should stay in the past, where it belongs."

"It's not your fault you had to get married to him," he said, guessing her reason. "It was your parents' idea, not yours."

"I could have said no," Victoria had answered. "And the less said about it, the better."

And so she had extracted the promise from him to not talk about the Bride or 'that other marriage' of hers to the children, and they themselves had spoken of neither since.

She'd often wondered since, though, what she had actually gained from that forced promise. There were times when she'd catch Victor staring off into the distance and, when asked, he couldn't - or wouldn't - tell her why.

Competing with another flesh-and-blood woman would have been hard enough, but how could she possibly contend with a phantom - the ghost of a girl who had been in life everything that she herself wasn't - and never could be?

Try as she might, she could never master the piano, and as for dancing - or singing...

Victoria sighed. It was past time to go. Victor already had enough on his mind without having to worry about her, too.

She got up, folded her blanket, and turned to go. But there was something - one more thing - that she had to say to her unseen rival before she left.

"Whatever it is you want ... leave my husband and daughter out of it. If you have business with my family, you can haunt _my_ dreams, but leave them alone ..."

Victoria sighed again. She could never find the right words when she needed them, but she hoped that the Bride had gotten the message. At least she felt better now...

Victor was coming down the stairs when he heard the knock on the door. When he opened it the Solicitor was standing there, carpetbag in hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Van Dort," he said. "I came by earlier, but there was no answer."

Then Victor remembered. "Oh, I'm sorry... We had an appointment for this morning."

"Indeed, we did, sir," the Solicitor replied.

"I'm sorry," Victor said. "It's been a busy couple of days. Let me get the papers."

"I can come back another time," his visitor said.

"No, wait here," Victor replied, then closed the door.

He emerged a minute or two later. "Here you are. They're already signed."

The Solicitor was mildly surprised. "Oh?" he said. "In that case ..."

He pulled out his pen and quickly added his signature to the paperwork, handing one of the copies back to Victor. Opening the carpetbag, he placed his copy inside, then pulled out an envelope. "Your cheque, sir."

Victor stuffed it into his pocket with barely a glance. "Thank you. Now ... if you don't mind ... I'll let you get on your way." Then he shut the door again, leaving the Solicitor standing alone on the doorstep.

The Solicitor smiled. This business had worked out better than he had planned. The fish had taken the bait … he needed only to wait for the right time to set the hook and then pull in the line. Then the Van Dort canning business, along with the contents of its office safe, would be his.

The Solicitor smiled again. It was turning out to be a _very_ good day...


	4. Ch 3: The Old Man and the Beach

**Chapter 3: The Old Man and the Beach**

Walter liked his place at the beach. Here he could hear the crashing of the surf and gaze out over the waves as they came in to break themselves over the beach.

Days like this weren't so bad - those rare days when the malignant thing growing inside him left him in some peace and he could be free to think.

He didn't mind this business of dying. All the people that he had cared for were long gone anyway and he had seen - and done - everything that he had wanted. He just wished that the dying part of it wouldn't take so long and be so damned inconvenient.

He daydreamed of days and years gone past, and of his lost loved ones …

For young Emily Van Dort, the morning seemed to drag on forever. Sometimes she didn't mind the church services, but there were other days when the benches were extra hard and the sermon was more drawn-out and boring than usual. This was one of those days...

Then … after that … was lunch. She liked the weeks when Gramma Nell took Sunday lunch with them, but today was an Everglot day.

Grandmother and Grandfather Everglot were much, much less fun. No contraband candy slipped to Emily and Willie after the meal, no loud funny stories, and certainly no children talking and laughing at the table. As far as that pair was concerned, children were to be neither seen NOR heard. She sighed. It was going to be a long lunch...

But, eventually, the dreadful meal was over with, and she was free to go at last.

"Are you sure you want to go for a walk now?" Victoria asked. "It looks like it's going to rain."

"I'll bring the umbrella, Mama," Emily promised.

She had been gone for ten minutes when her mother noticed the umbrella still parked in its stand.

"Oh, that child." she sighed.

Since her mishap at the docks Emily was no longer allowed to go there with her father. She had tried appealing the decision to him, but even he was disinclined to argue the matter with her mother.

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin, but you can't really blame her. You got really, really sick from that dunking, and we almost lost you. Just give it some time... "

That wasn't good enough for her. Fortunately she was still allowed to go out walking on her own and the beach wasn't far away. It wasn't nearly as much fun as going to the docks had been, but it was better than nothing.

Emily therefore had made a pastime of going to the beach whenever she could. She liked to look at the ocean and to imagine what might be just over the horizon.

There were lots of interesting things to see and other things that could be studied and then drawn in her sketchbook. Or just studied...

As she walked along the water's edge she noticed a new structure placed just above the high-water mark halfway down the beach.

It was a small wooden shelter with someone seated inside beneath an open canopy.

As she drew closer she could see that it was an elderly man who looked somehow familiar. After some thought, Emily realized that it was the old man that she and her father had met the day she fell into the water.

She knew that it was the same gentleman because of the white captain's hat and the bushy white mutton-chop whiskers that he wore. His eyes were the lightest, brightest shade of blue that she had ever seen and he was very thin, almost skeletal in appearance.

As she passed by, Emily said 'hello' and waved to him, but he barely acknowledged her. Too busy thinking of something else she thought. She walked a bit further down the beach and then found a comfortable spot to sit down.

Intrigued by the design of the little building, she pulled out her sketchbook and began to draw.

Under the roof of his shelter Walter watched the waves. The water was darker than it had been before - bad weather was coming. He looked up into the sky and scrutinized the gathering clouds: it was going to rain, and soon.

He glanced down the beach and noticed the young girl drawing in her book. I hope that she brought her umbrella, he thought, and then he turned his attention back to the usual things.

She had just finished roughing out her second sketch when the first large raindrop spattered on the page. Emily looked up and, too late, remembered where she had left the umbrella. The rain began to fall as she helplessly looked around her.

After a few seconds of sitting in the pouring rain, she realized that the old man was shouting in her direction.

"Would you like to come in from the rain, lassie?" he called out to her. Gratefully, she picked up her book and ran for cover.

"Thank you, sir" she said to the man as she huddled beside him under the roof. "Always happy to help a damsel in distress," he grinned. Then he took a second look at her and smiled.

"You're the young lady from the dock," he said. "The one who knows the difference between boats and ships."

"Yes, sir," Emily said. "I remember you, too."

He paused. "You're the Van Dort child," he recalled. "Do you have a first name?"

"It's Emily," she said.

The old man looked startled for a moment. "Oh," he said quietly after a few seconds. "What a lovely name."

"Thank you." And she smiled. "What's yours?"

"The name is Barrett," he answered. "Walter Barrett."

"Are you a sea captain, Mr. Barrett?" Emily asked, eyeing the white hat.

"I was," he replied, "but I'm retired now. And you can call me Walter if you like."

"I don't know about that," she said. "Papa says that it's not proper for children to call grown-ups by their first names."

"Respect for one's elders is a good quality," he smiled. "Well, then, you can call me Captain Barrett, or just 'Captain' if you prefer."

"Okay, Captain," she said.

They stood under the roof, not talking, until the rain eased and then stopped.

Emily looked up at the sky. Over towards her home the sky was already beginning to clear.

"Thank you for the shelter, Captain Barrett," Emily said.

"My pleasure," the old man replied. "My castle is your castle."

"Bye!" Emily said, and then she ran off towards home.

He watched her go until she disappeared from sight.

"How was your day today, Pumpkin?" Victor asked.

Emily looked up from her sketchbook. "It was pretty good."

"Did you get caught in the rain? Your mother tells me you forgot the umbrella."

Her face flushed. "I didn't mean to."

He laughed. "I'm sure you didn't. So how wet did you get?"

"I didn't," she answered, then she told her father about Captain Barrett and his beachside shelter.

"What did you say his name was again?"

"Captain Walter Barrett," Emily replied. "He used to be a sea captain."

"Oh," said Victor. "So that's why he knew us…"

Emily gave her father a strange look. "Why?"

"Never mind," he quickly answered.

"Is there something wrong - should I stay away from him, Papa?"

Victor thought for a few moments. "No," he said at last. "Captain Barrett's a fine man. Just don't bother him if he doesn't feel like company."

"Okay," she said.

He got up to leave. "But say 'hello' to him for me the next time you see him," he said.

"All right, Papa," the child said, then she put her head down and resumed her sketching.

Seven or eight days passed before the Captain was able to resume his place at the beach. The thing eating away inside him had given him a very difficult week and, even now, he didn't feel well. But he was tired of being stuck in the cottage without a break and he missed seeing the ocean.

After two false starts he was finally able to drag himself out to his seat by the water

Midway through the afternoon he spied a small figure walking along the edge of the water. As he had hoped, it was the Van Dort girl and she stopped to say hello.

"And how are you, lassie?" he asked her.

"Very well, thank you, Captain. It's a nice day, isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed.

"Oh. And my father says hello," she added.

"Does he, now?" the Captain said. "Please give him my regards."

She smiled. "Okay. Bye!" And she turned and ran down the beach.

He smiled to himself. And then the pain struck.

The Captain stiffened as the wave of nausea hit him. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to cry out. God, he thought, I can't take much more of this.

The sweat beaded on his brow as he fought the pain. Like a tide, it swept over him and threatened to overwhelm him but he was able to hold on until it dulled, then diminished, and then finally left him.

After a minute or two he was able to regain his breath and he slumped, drained and half-spent, in his chair.

He must have dozed off after that, as the next thing he heard was the sound of her voice. The Captain opened his eyes and looked down the beach. She was still a distance off yet, but she was singing to herself and the wind had carried the sound to him.

The child was carrying her sketchbook, and from the way of her walk, it was evident to him that she was in a happy mood.

As she had before, she stopped and greeted him. "Hello again, Captain," she said with a big smile.

"Hello again, lassie," he said in response. "How did your drawing go today?"

"Pretty well," she said. "Do you want to see them?"

"Why, yes," the Captain replied. "I do."

Emily smiled, and then pulled out the book and showed him her latest sketches. He looked at her work and marveled. The child had a fine eye for detail and the proportioning was exactly right.

"This is very good," he commented. "You have a definite talent."

"Thanks," she said shyly. "I like to draw."

"I can see that," he agreed. "And you work at it … that's a good thing."

He leafed further through the book and spotted the drawing she had made of his shelter. "Oh, this looks familiar," he commented.

"I hope you don't mind," Emily said. "I liked the way it looked."

"Me too," he said.

"Did you build it yourself?" she asked. "It wasn't here before."

"Yes, I did." It had cost him hours of painful labor, but it had been worth it.

He continued. "I've only been back here a short while … been away for a long time, but now I've come home. To stay..."

"It's good to have a home," Emily said. "Well, I've got to go, now. See you later, Captain Barrett."

"'Bye," the Captain said, and then he closed his eyes. He could feel another attack coming...

Emily came by often in the next few weeks. Victor was almost always busy at work and her mother was preoccupied with William and the endless demands of her own parents, so the girl was frequently left alone to amuse herself as best she could.

With so much free time on her hands, Emily made many trips to the beach and Captain Barrett came to look forward to her visits.

She loved to hear stories about his life on the sea and about the things he had seen and done during his travels. He liked to look at her drawings and to hear her laugh…

There were days when the Captain could not make it out to the beach and other days when bad weather or family commitments kept Emily away, but on most days they were able to visit.

On one of the bad weather days, Emily found herself with nothing to do and, not knowing what else to draw, she decided to make a portrait of her friend from the dreams.

The first sketch didn't look at all like her, but the next two or three did, and by the time Emily finished sketching she had captured the likeness of her friend exactly. She tucked the best two or three in her book, tore up the rest, and then forgot all about them.

Two days later, the weather turned nice again and she was finally able to get out to the beach to see her old friend. There were days when he was absent and she had wondered if he would be there that day, but he was.

The Captain greeted her with a wide smile. "Ah, Miss Van Dort," he said. "We meet again, at last..."

"Hi, Captain Barrett," she said happily.

"And what do you have for me today?" he asked.

Emily pulled out her sketchbook. "Here's some pictures of ships I've been doing."

The Captain flipped through the pages. "Ah ... nice work. You've got a good eye for details," he commented.

A loose sheet of paper fell from the book. "I've got it," he said, catching the errant page with his free hand.

The Captain glanced at the sheet as he replaced it. A finely drawn blue-pencil sketch, it was a full-face portrait of an exquisitely pretty dark-haired girl. Something about her seemed familiar and he took another, closer look.

It was the face of his long-dead daughter.

His mind went blank and he rocked backwards, nearly dropping the book.

"Are you all right?" Emily asked him.

Walter was speechless for a few more seconds and then he found his voice again.

"Uh ... well ... uh ... yes, I'm okay," he stammered.

She looked at him suspiciously.

"No, I'm fine," the Captain insisted, forcing himself to sound calm and casual.

"Uh, who is she?" he asked.

"Just somebody I imagined," Emily lied.

Walter wasn't fooled.

"I see," he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "It is a very nice picture. May I buy it from you?"

She stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

"You don't have to buy it," she answered. "You can have it if you like it."

The Captain assured her that, yes, he liked it very much, so she gave it to him.

"I've got to go," she told him. "Mama will be worrying about me."

With a trembling hand, he waved good-bye as she walked away.

When she was safely gone, Walter braced himself and looked at the drawing again. Over thirty years had passed since he had last seen that sweet face, and his memory of it was much fuzzier than he liked.

As he studied the picture, tears began to well up in his eyes and a knot began to form in his throat. A half-minute or so later, he broke down completely and, for the first time in more than three decades, he cried.


	5. Ch 4: The Living and the Dead

**Chapter 4: The Living and the Dead**

That same day, in the middle hours of the evening, there came a knock on the Van Dort family's front door.

When Victor opened the door, an elderly rail-thin gentleman with bushy white mutton-chop whiskers and a white captain's hat was standing on his doorstep.

"Ah, you must be the Captain Barrett that Emily's been telling me so much about," Victor said. "Come in, come in."

The old man nodded and entered the house. "Are you alone?" he said.

Victor looked towards the stairs and nodded. "My wife has retired early. You were fortunate to catch me still up."

The men adjourned to Victor's study and made themselves comfortable. "What can I do for you tonight?" Victor asked the Captain.

The older man pulled out a brown leather folder, which he then opened. From it he carefully drew a sheet of paper, which he handed to Victor.

It was Emily's blue-pencil sketch.

"Your daughter gave me this today," Walter said.

Victor looked it over carefully, then handed it back and began to apologize. "I'm sorry if she offended you, sir. She didn't mean…"

The Captain cut him off. "No, no. It's perfectly all right. You don't know how much this picture means to me … it's the only one of her that I have."

Victor nodded cautiously, but said nothing.

The Captain raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem at all surprised to see this - do you know who the girl in the picture is?"

"Of course," came the reply. "And you know the circumstances…"

"Indeed, I do," said Captain Barrett. "I know the story quite well. But I never had a good reason to talk to you about it." He motioned at the drawing. "Until now..."

"What do you want to know?"

"How is it that young Emily has come to know my daughter's face so well?" the Captain asked. "Did you perchance draw my daughter and the lass copied your work?"

Victor shook his head. "I used to draw a bit, it's true, but I never made any drawings of your Emily."

Captain Barrett waited, and Victor took a deep breath.

"She's been appearing in my daughter's dreams," Victor said. "For quite a while, apparently. My wife found that out the time Emily got sick and we almost lost her. At the height of her fever, she kept talking to someone, somebody who helped her through the worst of the crisis. From the description my wife got, it could only be your daughter. And this picture confirms it."

"You never talked to the child about this yourself?" the Captain asked.

"You have to understand, Captain Barrett, that my wife is - sensitive - about the subject. I made her a promise many years ago not to talk to our children about your Emily or about her own 'marriage' to that other man. And it is a promise that I have kept these many years."

"But your daughter ought to know," Walter objected.

"Maybe," Victor agreed. "But I did make that promise …"

"An unwise one in my opinion," the Captain grumbled.

There was an awkward silence.

"I could talk to Emily," Victor said. "And see to it that she doesn't bother you again. I can assure you, sir, she didn't mean to be hurtful in any way."

"No, please don't," the old man said quickly. "There's no need ... I enjoy her visits ... it lightens my days, you see."

Victor relaxed. "It seems to mean a lot to her, too," he said.

"You're not spending much time with the lass these days," the Captain observed.

Victor shrugged. "The business has been keeping me occupied. It's been hard to get away."

"I can understand that," said the Captain. "I know all about the need to tend to one's business. But if you could allow an old man to make a personal observation…"

"Go on," said Victor.

"It would be this: I had a child of my own once ... and I let my own business get betwixt us. And later on I lost her forever. And now I would give anything to have her back, even for a minute. Don't make the same mistake I did."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir" Victor said quietly.

Another awkward silence passed between the two men, but eventually Victor spoke.

"You wanted me to tell you the full story of how I came to know your daughter," he said.

Captain Barrett nodded. "I got some of it from the Crier, but the rest of it only you can tell."

"True enough," Victor agreed. "And for her sake I'd be happy to tell it to you..."

And so he shared with the old man everything he could remember of his time with the elder Emily and, in return, the Captain told Victor her life story. About how he had been gone a lot, and had returned from one trip to find his eighteen-year old daughter – his only child - to be in love with a scoundrel, a brute who had killed her and left her body in the woods. And how he had had her buried hastily, still in her mother's wedding dress, while he left to pursue the killer.

"The men I had hired to bury her did a poor job, and I left before they were done - that's how my daughter's hand came to be out of the ground. But when I returned years later, the grave was nicely kept," the Captain said.

"My wife," Victor said. "For her own reasons it's been important to her to keep up the grave."

"And I appreciate that," replied the Captain. "Please thank her for me."

Hours passed and the men talked, and then the Captain remembered something else. "I have a further bit of business with you."

"What's that?" asked Victor.

The old man reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a piece of blue velvet cloth folded into a small square packet. "I brought this for your daughter."

Victor carefully unfolded it and examined the object inside.

"Oh ... a butterfly brooch," Victor said, admiring the detail work. "It's absolutely beautiful. But - those can't be real sapphires...?"

"... And diamonds? Oh yes … they are," the Captain answered. "I had that custom made as a wedding present for my daughter for when she eventually got married, but..."

Victor shook his head. "It's much too expensive a gift for a child. We can't take this... "

"Consider it a future wedding gift from her old friend the Captain. Give it to her when she gets married," Walter replied.

"In that case, you could give it to her at that time yourself," Victor suggested.

The Captain shook his head and laughed: it was not a pleasant laugh. "You have eyes in your head, Victor - it must be plain to you that I'm not long for this world?"

Victor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to..."

The old man interrupted. "Take it, son - it's a gift from my family to yours. I won't be having any more use for it and I am certain that my Emily would have wanted yours to have it."

"But..."

"No 'buts', Victor," the Captain insisted. "That girl of yours has done more for me than I could ever hope to repay. That drawing alone..."

Victor sighed. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

The Captain smiled. "No, I'm afraid not – you're talking to a man who's accustomed to having his own way."

Victor smiled in response. "I can see that, Captain Barrett."

"Good - it's settled, then..."

Victor nodded.

The two men fell again into a comfortable conversation and only when the morning light arrived did either of them realize that the night had passed.

"I'm sorry, I have taken your entire night," the Captain apologized.

Victor smiled wearily. "It was well spent."

"And for me, as well," said Walter. He sighed. "Where were you when my daughter was looking for a man?"

"Pretty close to being born, I believe," Victor said dryly.

"A pity," Walter remarked. "You'd have made a fine son-in-law - it's too bad that she couldn't have waited another nineteen or twenty years ... the two of you would have made a fine pair, I'm sure."

"Do you really think so?" Victor asked.

"I have no doubt of it," the Captain smiled. "It's good to know that … in the end … she found someone who loved her for who she was."

Victor flinched. "Don't tell Victoria," he pleaded.

"I won't," promised Walter, "but being a good sensible woman, I'm sure that she's long since figured that out."

There was an awkward silence, which Victor finally broke. "For what it's worth, you would have made a good father-in-law. I'm glad to have finally met you, sir."

The Captain stood up. "And with that, my boy, it's time for me to go."

He glanced at the nearest window. Outside the sun had come up and the new day was brightening.

Victor saw him to the door. "Thank you for coming by. I enjoyed the visit." Then he held out his hand.

The older man took it and shook it vigorously. "Likewise - thank you for having me." And he left.

Young Emily Van Dort liked it when her 'dream friend' came to visit. Like with the Captain, it was good to have somebody who could - and did - listen to her, and tell her all kinds of interesting things.

But, unlike the Captain, she had never revealed anything about herself: even her name was still a mystery...

"Who are you?" Emily asked her once again that night.

The Bride smiled, but said nothing.

"Why won't you tell me who you are?" the child persisted.

Her friend shook her head. "I can't."

"But why not?"

"Your father knows why..."

"Papa knows you?" Emily asked. "But how?"

The Bride smiled again. "Ask your father," she said.

Then Emily woke up.


	6. Ch 5: Ghost Story

**Chapter 5: Ghost Story**

After tossing and turning for the rest of a sleepless night, Emily finally gave up and dragged herself out of bed. She dressed quickly, and then padded downstairs to her father's study.

The door was open and he was inside, gathering his things for work. Victor looked up and smiled at her. "Somebody's up early." Then he saw the look on her face. "What's the matter, Pumpkin?"

'Who is she, Papa? She says that you know her."

Victor sighed. "Your friend from the dreams?" he guessed.

"Yes," Emily answered, surprised. "How did you know?"

He paused and looked out the window. "Your mother - she told me about her and described her to me … back when you were sick."

The girl nodded. That made sense.

"How badly do you want to know?" he asked her.

"Who was she?" she asked again.

"Go fetch your sketchbook and I'll tell you."

Emily looked at him, a questioning look on her face.

"It'll help. Bring it here."

The girl turned and left the room. Her father sighed one more time, and then he slumped forward and covered his eyes. This was going to mean the breaking of a long-kept promise...

Emily returned a couple of minutes later. She held out the book. "Here, Papa."

He took it and flipped through the pages, looking at each picture in turn until he found the one he was looking for. Victor caught his breath as he stared down at the page.

"What is it, Papa?" Emily asked.

He held the book open and pointed to a pencil sketch of a pretty dark-haired girl.

"Your friend from the dreams," Victor said. It was a statement, not a question.

Emily nodded, eyes wide.

He continued. "Yes, I know her. And you'd probably like to know how?"

"Yes, Papa. She's not just someone I imagined, is she?"

Victor shook his head.

"No. She was a very real person who lived ... and died ... a long time ago."

"And you knew her?" she asked.

Victor nodded. "In a manner of speaking … she died a couple of months before I was born. But I knew her, just the same."

Emily looked puzzled. "But how could you? If she died before you were born?"

"Do you like ghost stories?" he asked.

Emily nodded solemnly.

"Well, this one is kind of a ghost story, but it's a real one … for it actually happened."

He paused. "It happened to your mother and I."

His daughter's eyes widened and she leaned forward expectantly.

Victor took a deep breath and continued. "You see … the day before we were to be married, our families had the rehearsal in the church and I was very, very nervous. So much so, that - in fact - I couldn't get the vows right.''

She nodded again.

"So the rehearsal went badly and I decided to take a walk in the forest to practice my vows. I had to go quite a ways before I finally got them right, too. And by that time I had walked all the way out to the old cemetery in the woods. Do you know the one that I'm talking about?"

"Yes," she said, still wide-eyed.

"Well, by that time I finally had the words to the ceremony memorized, so I ran through them one last time. And at the end of it I placed the wedding ring over what I had thought was an old tree branch. Then I 'asked' it - pretending that it was your mother's hand - to be mine."

"But it wasn't just an old tree branch, was it?" Emily asked quietly.

Victor smiled and shook his head.

"No, it wasn't - it turned out to be the hand of a poor dead girl that had been murdered years before on her wedding day. It was sticking out of the grave and, foolishly, I'd confused it for a tree branch in the moonlight and placed my ring upon it."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, I heard a strange noise and, as I was looking around to see what it was, something grabbed my arm and pulled."

Emily gasped.

"Before I knew what was happening, my whole arm had been pulled into the ground. It took all of my strength to break free."

"But you did?" she asked, her eyes wider yet.

"Oh, yes," he assured her, "but I could feel something still holding onto my wrist and, as I looked to see what it was, it tightened its grip..."

"And?" Emily said impatiently.

"... And it turned out to be the hand and arm of that corpse! I had pulled right it out of the grave."

"Oh my gosh!" Emily exclaimed. "That must have been frightening."

"Not nearly as much as what happened next. I shook the horrid thing off, but - before I could get away - the ground started to shake and, right before my eyes, she came straight out of the ground in front of me! I couldn't move … I was so frightened! And, as I was gathering my wits, she lifted her veil, looked at me, and whispered, 'I do.' "

"Her veil?"

"Oh, yes - she had been murdered on her wedding day, you see? And she was still dressed in her wedding outfit."

Emily put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no! What did you do next?"

"Well, I took to my heels and ran for my life, with her following close behind. I ran all the way back to the old stone bridge and thought that I'd finally lost her."

"But you didn't?" Emily guessed.

"No. For when I turned around on that bridge she was standing right there. I must have fainted at that point because the next thing I remember was her bending over me, and I was coming-to in the Land of the Dead."

"The 'Land of the Dead'? What do you mean? ... Is there such a place? … Where is it?"

Victor shook his head and smiled "I still don't know what to think about that - it was a very odd and marvelous place. To this day I don't wonder sometimes if it wasn't just a very strange dream."

"So, what was it like?"

"Well - it was filled with dead people, of course. Some were just skeletons, others were only a little … gone. But they were all having a great time, like some kind of cabaret."

"Papa, what's a cabaret?"

"Never mind," Victor said quickly. "Let's just say that they were having a good time, and leave it at that."

He changed the subject. "So, like I was telling you before, this was a young girl, murdered on her wedding day. And somehow the poor thing had gotten the notion that I was now married to her. You see, while she was alive, she had wanted a wedding more than anything else and when she was killed that dream died with her."

"Oh, how awful!" Emily exclaimed.

Victor nodded. "And when I came along, it must have seemed to her like a second chance. So she took it."

"And you right along with it," she added.

"Yes. But it wasn't so bad. Because while I was there, I got to know her - in the end, she turned out to be a very sweet girl, who just happened to be dead. I was down there with her for maybe a day or so, and then the two of us returned for a visit to the Land of the Living, along with some of the other dead folk, to celebrate our wedding."

"_Your_ wedding?" she interjected. "But I thought it was you and Mama that were supposed to be getting married?"

Victor smiled again at his daughter.

"That's another long story. Remind me to tell you more about that some day."

"Oh, I will," she replied. "And what happened next?"

"Well, while we were at the church - by the strangest of coincidences - the fellow who had murdered her years before walked into the place. He had changed over the years, I guess, but she still managed to recognize him."

"And what then … did she kill him back?" Emily asked hopefully.

"No - not exactly. You see … this character was not only wicked and selfish, but he was cruel, too. And he decided it would be great fun to taunt her about what he had done to her years before."

"Oh, what a rotten man!" she exclaimed.

"Well, the last laugh was on him. You see … he picked up what he thought was a cup of wine from the altar and he drank it down as a mock toast to Emily. But it was actually poison - and he died right there on the spot."

"It served him right," she said. And then she stopped, and a confused look passed across her face.

"Emily? ... " She queried. "... _Emily_? ... But _I'm_ Emily!"

"And so you are," her father replied. "But, you see - this girl's name was Emily, too."

"Like me?"

Victor paused and took a deep breath. "You were named after her, my dear."

There was an awkward silence, and then she asked another question.

"So what happened to her after that, Papa?"

Victor scratched his head. "I guess that she decided then that her business on earth was done. For at that point she turned and walked out of the church and, when she paused at the door, the strangest thing happened.

"She was... well ... surrounded by a bright blue light, and then she dissolved into a cloud of the most beautiful kind of butterflies and we never saw her again after that."

"What a sad story," Emily murmured. "You said you got to know her …What was she like?"

Victor sighed. "She was sweet and brave, and very full of life. She loved to sing and to dance in the moonlight. And she was good at playing the piano."

"Like you," Emily observed. "So you fell in love with her?"

"Of course not," he said hastily. "But I did grow fond of her - she was a special lady."

"Does Mama know about her?"

"Of course she does," Victor said. "She was there with me at the church when all of this happened."

"And so ... if the other Emily's gone ... then why does she come to me in my dreams?"

He reached out and ruffled her hair. "I wish I knew, Pumpkin. Maybe she's looking out for you."

"Like a guardian angel?"

"That could be," he shrugged. "Maybe you can ask her when you see her again."

"I'll do that. And Papa?"

"Yes?"

"You must have liked her a lot to have named me after her."

There was a long pause before Victor spoke again. "Actually, it was your mother's idea."

"It was?" That surprised her.

He continued. "I guess she felt that we owed it to her."

"'Why?"

Victor smiled at his daughter. "You're just full of questions - and I guess I would be too if I were in your place. But - that's another story for a later time."

Emily looked again at the portrait. "She certainly is beautiful, isn't she?"

"She was," he agreed.

Then he changed the subject again. "Your friend Captain Barrett came by for a visit last night."

"He did? What did he want?" she asked.

"You gave him one of your pictures yesterday," Victor replied.

"I did," Emily said carefully. "But he asked me for it. In fact, he offered to buy it from me, but I gave it to him."

"It's all right," her father said. "You did nothing wrong and – yes - he did ask you for it."

"It was another picture of her," she recalled.

"That's right," Victor said.

"Did the Captain know her, too?" she asked.

He paused and looked out the window again - for a longer time.

"He certainly did … You see - she was his daughter," he said gently.

Emily gasped. "What! His daughter? But he never told me that he had a daughter!"

"He did," said Victor," but she died a long time ago."

She couldn't believe it. "But how could Captain Barrett's daughter be my friend from the dreams? And be the dead girl you named me after?"

He shrugged and pulled the sketch from the book. "I can hardly believe it myself, but it's true … she is. I could never forget that face. And, of course, neither could he..."

Emily thought of something and a worried look passed across her face. "Oh. I hope I didn't make him feel bad. He acted funny when he first saw it."

Victor smiled and patted her head. "No," he answered. "If anything, he was very happy to get the picture. You see, it's the only one of her that he has."

He pulled out his watch. "Oh, my! I've got to go ..."

"Awwww." She hadn't heard nearly enough yet and she wanted to hear more.

But Victor had talked long enough, and he stood his ground. "No - that's it. Off you go."

"Okay," Emily said, her voice heavy with disappointment. Reluctantly, she picked up her sketchbook and slowly left the room.

Victor had just finished gathering his things for work when the knock on the door came. "Who could that be?" he muttered. He took a quick look out of the window, and then went to the door. When he opened it the Solicitor was standing there.

"Good morning, Mr. Van Dort. It pains me to trouble you about this, but there is a problem with your loan..."

The Solicitor did not stay long; he quickly conducted his business with Victor, and then left. Victor could only stare at the piece of paper he had left behind.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long night and now it was going to be a very long day. Wearily, he closed his eyes and rubbed them again. He heard footsteps ... that would be Victoria.

He opened his eyes as she entered the room.

"That was quite the chat you were having with Emily. What in the world were you talking about? She gave me the strangest look just now."

"The past," he said wearily.

"The what?" she asked. Then she had a horrible sinking thought...

"Victor - you didn't tell our daughter about _her_, did you?"

The look on his face was all the answer she needed.

"Oh, Victor, how_ could_ you!" she screeched. "You made a promise! We weren't to tell her any of that. Don't you remember?"

"Yes, I do," Victor replied. "But it was time that she knew."

"You could have asked me about it."

"I could have," he agreed. He stood up and stepped toward her. "But I knew that you would have said no."

"Of course," she retorted. "We've had quite enough of that woman in our lives!"

"You're jealous of her," he said.

She glared angrily at him.

"Jealous," he persisted. "Of a ghost!"

A wave of rage swept over Victoria and, without thinking, she slapped her husband ... hard across his face.

Both of them were stunned. But Victor spoke first. "You'll not do that again," he said coldly. She had never heard him use that tone of voice before, and it frightened her.

"Oh, Victor, I'm sorry!"

He shook his head and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," he snapped. Then he turned on his heel and left.

Victoria sobbed as he slammed the door behind him.

"Victor! I didn't mean it! Come back! Come back!"


	7. Ch 6: A Letter for Emily

**Chapter 6: A Letter for Emily**

The sun was rising when the Captain finally left Victor's house.

He had walked only two or three dozen paces down the street when he felt the old familiar symptoms coming on. Frantically, Walter looked around for a place to stop.

He found it two houses away: a covered porch with a pair of sturdy-looking chairs. He breathed a blessing upon the owner of the house and pressed on towards them. He was able to make it with a minute, maybe two, to spare before the attack struck him with its full force.

When the episode was finally over, the Captain was soaked with sweat, and there was the taste of iron in his mouth. The hand that he raised to his mouth came away bloody; he had bitten his lip again.

Walter wiped it off as best he could, then he slumped back on the chair to regain his strength.

Five minutes later he was still resting when he spotted a familiar profile coming towards him. As quickly as he could manage, the Captain pushed himself off the chair and painfully moved around the corner of the house. He stayed out of sight until the man passed, then he carefully poked his head around the corner to see where the intruder went.

Sure enough, the man walked directly to the Van Dort house and knocked on the door. A face appeared at the side window and a few seconds later the door opened and the Solicitor walked inside. The door shut behind him.

The Captain swore quietly to himself and kept watch on the house. When the visitor left a few minutes later, Walter waited until he was safely gone, and then he himself departed in the opposite direction, towards the inn.

It was still too early in the morning for the inn to be open, but the Captain had nowhere else to go and he needed a quiet place to think.

As he'd hoped, the girl was already there, getting set up for the day. She spotted him at the door and hurried over to let the Captain in, locking the door behind him.

"Good morning to you, Captain Barrett. I'm just about to put the tea on."

"Ah, Katie, you're a darlin'," he teased. "Will you marry me?"

She laughed. "You say that to all the girls... "

He grinned back. "Maybe so - but for you, I actually mean it."

"You're bad!" she giggled, and then she scurried off to fetch the kettle.

She came back ten minutes later with the tea, some honey, and a slice of toast.

The Captain smiled at Katie and then contemplated his toast. He had been feeling poorly lately and this day wasn't going to be any better. With a sigh he pushed away the plate and focused on his tea. First one spoonful of honey, and then another. His nourishment for the day...

Walter lingered over his tea, and then he pulled out his pipe. He was able to take only a puff or two before he had to put it away again.

The Captain sighed. Not being able to eat anymore was bad enough, but not being able to smoke - now _that_ was intolerable...

He mulled over his next move, and then he consulted his pocket watch. Good. Young Van Dort should be at his office by now. It was time to pay the lad another visit...

He was able to make the trip with only one attack en route.

Victor, of course, was there at his office. He was apologetic. "I'm sorry, Captain Barrett" he said, "but this is not the best of times…"

"I can see that," the Captain replied. "But what I have to tell you might change that. You see, it concerns your friend, the Solicitor."

"He's no friend of mine," Victor snapped.

"Aye," replied the Captain. "It had been my hope to warn you off from doing business with him. I've had dealings with him in the past, you see, and I can assure you from first-hand experience that he's not a man you'd want to trust..."

"I've had that experience myself," sighed Victor. "Just this morning..."

The Captain nodded. "I know," he said. "I saw him come and go at your house. Would you care to fill me in on the details? I might be able to help you."

"I don't know how you could possibly help," Victor said. "But it can't do any harm now, I guess..."

The Captain took the papers from Victor and looked them over for several long minutes. "He's got you on a technicality," Walter said, at last. "It may be morally wrong, but he is legally justified."

"But it doesn't make sense," Victor said

"Oh? Why not?"

"He loses money if he calls in the loan - a lot of it. At least that's what Finis told me."

The Captain snorted. "I wouldn't believe a word that that old fool ... "

Then he stopped and took another look at the paperwork, scratching his head as he worked his way through the numbers again. Finally, he lowered the papers and shook his head.

"I thought I'd never live long enough to say this … but your idiot father-in-law is right for a change - it doesn't make sense."

Victor looked at the Captain, new hope in his eyes.

"It just doesn't make sense..."

Walter scratched his head again and thought hard. "I _know_ this character - he never does anything unless he can make a buck."

He paused. "There's something here that he wants - badly ... But what can it be...?" The Captain looked around.

"What are you looking for?" Victor asked.

"There's got to be something here," Walter answered. "Something that's worth a lot to him..."

"Do you have jewels, or art, or some other valuables around here, maybe in your safe?" he asked Victor.

The younger man laughed bitterly and shook his head. "If we did, we wouldn't have needed the loan in the first place."

"Well, he's after something," the Captain muttered. "But what?"

He tried another angle. "Is there anything here that belongs to somebody else? Something that you could be holding for a third party? Money, or bonds, or perhaps valuable papers of some kind?"

"Nothing at all like that," Victor answered. "The only things we have in the safe that don't belong here are some old papers and stuff that were among Barkis's effects. The ones my wife Victoria inherited after he died..."

"Oh - that could be something," the Captain commented. "Do you know what they were?"

Victor shook his head. "I never had anything to do with them … never wanted to … Father handled everything."

"Do you mind if I take a look?" the Captain asked.

"No, be my guest," Victor said. "I'll go get them..."

"And, if you don't mind, I need to go outside for some fresh air," Walter said.

He managed to make it to the outhouse at the back of the building with two or three minutes to spare...

A half hour later, pale and sweaty, Walter was back in the Van Dort company office.

"Is everything all right?" Victor asked him. "You don't look well."

"Just a touch of dyspepsia," replied the Captain. "Now - where are those papers?"

Victor held them out. "Here."

The old man dumped them out on Victor's desk and he began to sort through them. Most of the papers were trash, and these he piled off to the side. The more promising ones he kept neatly arranged on top of the desk.

He had gone about two-thirds of the way through the collection when he found it.

"Well, hello, there," the Captain said and he held up a small blue slip of paper.

Victor leaned over for a closer look. "What did you find?" he asked.

"We're getting close," said the Captain. "Look at the names on that cheque."

The younger man looked at the paper. "Barkis Bittern." Then he looked at the other name. "The Solicitor!" he exclaimed.

The Captain nodded. "I'd like to know why our solicitor friend wrote mister..." He looked at the scrap of paper. "...'Bittern' ... such a large cheque."

He looked quickly through the remainder of the papers, pulled out a light brown envelope and then pointed at the name written on the front.

Victor looked. "The Solicitor..."

"Let's take a look," said the Captain. He cut open the envelope, pulled out the papers, and then began to read them. As he skimmed through, his eyes widened until finally he put the papers down and closed his eyes. He paused to rub them with the heels of his hands, then he sighed and stuffed everything back into the envelope.

"What is it?" Victor asked, reaching for it.

The Captain placed a hand on top of the envelope, blocking Victor's access to it.

"You don't want to know," he said.

Victor reached again for the envelope and again Walter blocked him. "Trust me, Victor" he said. "You definitely do not want to know about this."

"Why not?" asked Victor.

The Captain ignored his question.

"I'll seal these," he said. "They'll be the key to keeping this man out of your life."

"Are you sure?" Victor fretted.

The Captain paused and looked directly at him. "One way, or another, your 'Solicitor' problems are going to be solved. We'll leave it up to him to decide exactly how..."

He pulled out his sealing wax and seal and, a minute later, the envelope was sealed again. When he was done the Captain looked at Victor again. "Under no circumstances are you nor any other member of your family to read these. Ever. For your own safety ... do I make myself clear?"

"I – I guess so," Victor said reluctantly. "Do you think my father knew … about this?"

Walter nodded. "I'm guessing that he did, and that would be why he never told you."

"So - what do I do now?" Victor asked.

"Do this," the Captain said. He looked through the rejected papers until he found a suitable scrap piece, and then he turned it over and began to write.

Victor watched as the Captain wrote out the directions, then he took it from Walter's hand and read it through.

"Does it make sense to you? Do you understand it?" the older man asked.

Victor nodded.

"Good," Walter said. "It's time for me to go and have a heart-to-heart chat with our mutual friend."

"Thank you," Victor said.

"Not at all," said the Captain. "That's what family is for. Good-bye, Victor"

"See you later, Captain Barrett."

Walter shook hands quickly with Victor and then he left.

The Captain walked back to the inn. In front of the place a bored looking boy, maybe eight or nine years of age, was whitewashing the fence as slowly and as with little effort as he could manage. "You, boy!" Walter called out. "How would you like to make a few shillings?"

The speed with which the young lad dropped his brush and ran up to the Captain indicated that he was very interested…

The old man held out a pair of coins. "Do you know the Solicitor?" he asked the boy.

"Why, of course I do," he replied. "Everybody does."

"Good," said the Captain. "Have him here within the hour and there'll be three more shillings for you. Tell him that Captain Barrett wishes to see him. And that it's urgent."

"Yes, sir!" the boy answered and he ran off as fast as his skinny legs could carry him.

The Solicitor showed up at the inn forty minutes later. "What can I do for you?" he asked cautiously.

"I have a business proposition for you," the Captain answered.

"I'm listening," the Solicitor said. "But make it quick - I'm a busy man..."

"I'd like to buy the Van Dort loan from you."

The Solicitor shook his head. "Quite impossible, I'm afraid."

"Anything is possible for the right price," replied the Captain. He reached into his folder and pulled out a cheque.

"There," he said. "This should be adequate compensation."

The Solicitor glanced at the small bit of paper and shook his head.

"'I don't take cheques," he said. "And that's not the full amount due. There's penalties, and interest, and... "

"You'll take this one," the Captain said. He smiled - a cold grim smile. "Paid in full. Like it says on the cheque. And I want the receipt."

The Solicitor shook his head and sighed. A faux sigh. "I can't do that, Captain Barrett. I have to hold to the terms, the same as anybody else. Now where would I be if I started changing the terms? Nothing personal against Mr. Van Dort, but business, sir, is business." Then he named a new, much higher, number.

"Indeed it is, sir," the Captain agreed. "I'll revise the amount." He picked up the cheque and tore it in two.

The Solicitor smiled to himself. This was a good start...

The Captain pulled out his book and his fountain pen. He dipped the nib, and then filled in the new cheque.

With feelings of smug satisfaction, the Solicitor watched him write. Then he leaned over to double-check the amount.

"What! Are you mad, sir?" he sputtered. "That's only half the previous amount - barely the principal - why, the interest alone ... "

The Captain held up his hand to cut him off.

"That one was business," he said. "And now you've made it personal... "

The Solicitor glared at him.

Walter ignored him. He opened his brown leather folder and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

"Do these look familiar to you?" he asked, holding them out for the other man to see.

The Solicitor's face turned gray. "Where did you get those?" he croaked.

The Captain shook his head. "The question is not where I got them - but what I should do with them next…"

The Solicitor stared at the papers in stark horror. "What ... what do you want?"

The Captain pointed at the slip of paper on the table. "Take the cheque. Make out the receipt out to 'Victor Van Dort: Paid in Full'. Then, never ... ever ... trouble the Van Dort family in any way, ever again."

"But ... how can I trust you?" the Solicitor asked.

Walter laughed mirthlessly. "That's a good one, coming from the likes of you. As far as you're concerned ... you wouldn't want to trust me. But you can trust young Van Dort."

"What do you mean?"

The Captain put the papers back into his folder. "He will keep them safe … in a place well beyond your reach. Upon the occasion of your death, he burns them unread. And if, by chance, you decide not to honor our agreement ..."

"Alright, alright," the Solicitor said. "I'll take your damned cheque." Then he snatched it up and then hastily scribbled out a receipt, which he threw back on the table.

"Are you happy now, you vicious old bastard?" he snapped.

The Captain shook his head. "Happiness for me would be to see you swinging from a gallows. But I'm a tired old man, and I'll settle for this ..."

"Pirate!" the Solicitor spat. Then he scurried away.

The Captain leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled to himself. It had been a long time since he'd felt this satisfied...

The rest of the morning went well for Walter: he was able to keep down an entire slice of toast and get in a couple of good smokes with the pipe.

At noon precisely the constable walked into the inn to take his lunch. The Captain caught his eye, and the man strode over to the table to say hello.

After some small talk, the Captain asked the constable for a favor. "Do you mind if I walk with you as far as the bank?" he asked.

"Making a deposit, are you?"

The old man nodded once.

The constable nodded. "If you don't mind waiting for me to have my lunch..."

"I've got all day," Walter said.

As he waited for the other man, the Captain decided to make use of the extra time. He pulled out his pen and a fresh sheet of paper and he wrote out a short note in jagged, shaky longhand:

_Dear Emily,_

_By the time you get this letter I'll be gone. You've been a good friend to me & I enjoyed our days on the beach. Thank you most of all for the picture - it is very special to me & maybe some day your Papa will tell you why. Don't forget to make time for your Papa & don't let him forget to make time for you. Keep drawing the pictures - you're good at it. God bless you & keep you._

_Your old friend, the Captain_

Walter Barrett 

He read it over and decided that it would do. On the front of a new envelope he scribbled a note to Victor and then he placed the letter inside and sealed it.

At the usual time, the constable was finished with his lunch. It was time to go.

On their way to the bank they passed the Solicitor and his two favorite bully-boys as they idled at the mouth of an alley around the corner from the bank. Walter smiled a wide friendly smile at the scowling man as they walked by.

"I could wait for you at the bank if you like," the constable offered, looking back at the men.

The Captain nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

Ten minutes later his business was concluded and he left the bank in company with the constable. Walter looked toward the alley, but the Solicitor and his friends were gone.

"Maybe they're attending to some honest work," the constable commented. Then the two men laughed.

The constable walked Walter all the way home and then he left to continue his rounds.

'It's good to be home again' the Captain thought. It had been a good night, but he was tired and needed to rest.

His happy mood ended when he felt the old familiar warning deep in his gut. Quickly, without wasting any time, he crept to his bunk and dropped wearily onto it, bracing himself for the next attack.

It was longer and deeper than usual, but he was able to ride it out. But two minutes later, another one came. And this one was much worse...

The attack didn't come in waves this time, but swept over him like a single tremendous solid wall of pain and nausea. Oh god, he prayed, make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop...


	8. Ch 7: Moonlight Encounter

**Chapter 7: Moonlight Encounter**

By the time Walter drifted back into consciousness the daylight had faded and it was now dark inside the cottage.

Something very heavy was lying on top of him, the weight of it crushing down onto his chest, and he wondered how it could have gotten there. He pulled the dead weight of his hand upwards, gritting his teeth with the effort, to feel about … to see what the heavy thing was - and there was nothing there. He wondered how that could be...

Later on, the moon came up and, little by little, the Captain managed to roll himself over so that he could see it.

It was a good place to be: from where Walter lay he could see both the moonlit ocean and the moon itself sailing above it. He liked the moon and he liked the sea ... he only wished that he wasn't so tired. He wondered why no one had come along yet to take the heavy thing off his chest. Then another wave of weariness washed over him, and he closed his eyes again.

For Victor the rest of the workday crept by slowly. With so many things on his mind it was difficult to keep his thoughts straight. He wondered how successful the Captain's 'chat' had been with the Solicitor and he kept replaying the argument he'd had that morning with Victoria over and over again in his mind.

When it came to him to leave, he didn't feel like going home yet, so he decided to go for a very long walk instead.

Usually when Victor went for a walk, things would fall into place, but today the further he went the more unsettled his mind became. Eventually he gave up trying to think and he just wandered aimlessly, letting his legs take him in whatever direction they cared to go.

He walked and walked for a long time, well into the night. Eventually he reached a point where he had to stop to rest, and so he did.

Something about the place seemed familiar, and he lifted his head and looked around. In front of him - not more than ten or fifteen feet away - was the Bride's grave.

A sudden irrational thought came into his mind: if he stayed here long enough, perhaps she would come and tell him what to do next...

Victor spent the night at the Bride's grave, waiting. Over and over again, he relived the brief time that he had spent with her, wondering if, perhaps, it hadn't been a very strange dream.

The sun came up, and still he lingered, wondering if somehow he could bring her back by sheer force of will. From time to time he could hear rustling behind him in the forest, but he didn't bother to look. It might have been Victoria, or maybe someone else, but there was only the one face he wanted to see...

The sun climbed into the sky, then sank down again. The forest air grew cool and damp as the evening deepened once more into night. Moonrise came and more hours passed. It was only when he heard the sound of the ravens that he finally opened his eyes.

She was standing at the foot of the grave.

Not the ragged corpse that he had known briefly years before, but the very image of the lovely girl that she had been ... as she had been when she lived.

She was so much more beautiful than he had remembered. Large dark eyes shone brightly above a small nose, and her long, thick, dark hair fell in waves over her long neck down past her bare shoulders. She still wore the wedding dress, but now it looked new and fresh - not like the tattered rag he had seen on her years before.

"It's neither right nor proper to summon the dead," she said, shaking her head.

Victor staggered to his feet. "Emily!" he cried, and he reached out for her.

But she drew back. "No, Victor… "

Victor persisted. "But I was wrong! I should have married _you_!"

Emily looked wistfully at Victor. She stretched out a ghostly hand and caressed his cheek. Her touch felt like butterfly wings upon his skin.

"I love you, Victor," she said. "And I always will ... but you're still not mine … you belong with your family … they need you now."

"But I can't," he complained. "It's too hard. All these years I've been hoping and praying that you'd come back. And now you have."

She smiled. A sweet, sad smile. "Only to say good-bye, darling."

"No!"

The Bride shook her head.

"Have faith, Victor... "

"Faith? What faith? ... I can't go on ... not without you!"

"Oh, Victor... but _I_ believe in you. We'll meet again, don't worry. But life here … is so short. Don't waste yours waiting for me."

She paused and smiled again. "Good-bye, my love."

"But, Emily!" Victor cried.

She started to fade. "I have to go now ... there's someone I've been waiting for … someone who needs me …"

She blew him a kiss, and was gone.

Victor fell to his knees.

"No!" he wailed. "Emily! Come back! Please come back!"

But there was only the sound of the wind whistling through the empty trees. And the sound of ravens crying in the distance.

His heart pounded and his head swirled. So many years he had waited to see her one more time and now - too quickly - he had lost her again.

Victor lingered awhile longer at the grave. He wept and raged, and then he wept again. And when his tears finally dried, and he could cry no more, he pulled himself wearily to his feet and turned for home.

He didn't know how to go on, but he clung to her words.

_'... I believe in you...'_

It would have to be enough.

The pain was still there, but the Captain didn't feel it quite as much now. Somehow it felt duller, much less urgent, and a lot more distant. The room grew dim, but he didn't mind - he liked the darkness, and it seemed comforting to him.

His thoughts wandered as he felt himself sink. He thought about Emily and wondered if he would ever see her again.

And then she was there. "Hello, Daddy," she said to him gently. "I've been waiting for you."

The Captain's eyes widened and they filled with tears. "Oh, my girl," he whispered. "Oh, my darling girl!"

Then he died.

The spirit of the Bride paused for a moment, and then reached out and gently took his hand in hers.

"Come," she said. "Mother's waiting for us."

He opened his eyes in wonder and, after a few more moments, the essence of the Captain stepped away from the emptied body and, hand in hand, the two walked together into the waiting Light.

The End


End file.
